A Summoner on the Nebra
by vieralynn
Summary: What if Ivalice and FFXII's cast were placed in FFX's storyline? Balthier/Ashe, Basch, Penelo, mentions of Vaan, Dr. Cid, all in different contexts.


_This is a strange little idea: what happens to Ivalice & FFXII's cast if they are living FFX's story? _

_This is a test story for a much larger AU idea that keeps coming up in conversation with logistika-nyx and it received rhianna-aurora's thumbs up on character mappings. What's missing from this story is Vossler as Auron. My first instinct was Basch as Auron until they both gave me good reasons to think otherwise. A few more characters were shuffled in our discussion and … I wrote a quick test story. Over the next few months I suspect that I'll write a much longer AU story along these lines for IJ's roads-diverged community, prompt "natural disaster." (Sin from FFX is a bit of a natural disaster, y?)._

* * *

**A Summoner on the Nebra**

Balthier hardly knew Ashe -- hardly knew anyone in this strange place -- but Ashe wasn't afraid to ask him about where he had come from. Beyond hoverball, this Ivalice had nothing in common with his own, yet there was something about Ashe that made him feel like he was supposed to be here. Something. But he didn't know what.

Balthier watched as she walked away. An elbow jabbed his arm.

"She looks regal dressed as a summoner," Basch said with his eyebrow cocked and a hint of a smile. Regal was not the word that the captain had implied. The curves of Ashe's hips teased as she walked toward the fire, hot pink fabric clinging to her backside. Creamy flesh peeked below her skirt, beckoning their eyes to follow the sway of her steps.

Basch cleared his throat. "Don't get any ideas."

"I'm not certain I can make such a promise," Balthier replied. "After all, I believe that _she_ was the one who came on to me."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Balthier knew he had overstepped his bounds.

Basch's posture pulled into military form, chest out, shoulders squared, and the lax hoverball player was gone. He was a man devoted to his mission. "Put it out of your mind. It won't happen." The tone of the man's voice wasn't kidding.

Guardians. Summoners. Just what was this place?

And everything about life and living seemed simpler here. Naked. Stripped to barest principles. It was nothing like the world Balthier had known.

Perhaps he really was one thousand years in the future but none of it made sense. This was probably just an out of the way tropical village and nothing more. Ashe had mentioned Rabanastre. Much larger. Much more civilized. And Vaan -- what happened to Vaan and those strange little talking animals he was with? -- Vaan had said something about a city with hoverball stadium. If only Balthier could remember the name.

His head still hurt. Still felt a bit dizzy.

Yet, if he got a good night of sleep, then tomorrow would come and tomorrow they were leaving. First Nalbina and then Rabanastre. And everything would return to normal again.

Except...

Except why would Basch and Vaan separately tell him the same lie? It didn't make sense. None of this made sense. None of it.

Balthier sighed.

The logs on the camp fire sparked and popped. Balthier watched as Ashe knelt down and spoke with some of the children from this village. Two of them wanted her to play a game. She indulged them, pretending not know which small hand concealed a common blue gemstone.

Basch clapped a heavy hand on Balthier's shoulder. With his long sun-bleached hair and relaxed smile, he was once again the easy going hoverball player who had found Balthier midday in the middle of the Nebra. "I asked Dantro's wife to make a bed for you. Just ask her once you are tired."

For all that had happened over the past few days, things could have been worse. These people were friendly. Genuinely hospitable, in fact, unlike those odd little creatures with bat wings and pom-poms. Nasty little creatures. Sticking guns in his face and threatening him with a grenade. It was a good thing that Vaan knew how to speak their language. That kid managed to keep a tense situation from exploding into something quite unfortunate. But then, after that Venat thing came and the howling wind and the storm...

Balthier sighed. Vaan was a troublesome little thief, but he seemed all right. Balthier wondered if Vaan had survived.

Basch wandered off to talk with his teammates. He was going to leave them after their next game. Basch had told this to Balthier before signing him onto their team but he asked Balthier to keep it a secret.

"Don't let them know until after the game," he had said. "They probably know already but I don't want them to loose their spirit. We've lost many games. My men need to stay hopeful." And then Basch put his arm around Balthier as if they had known each other for much longer than an afternoon.

For someone with an honest and open demeanor, there was more to Basch than he let on. Balthier knew Basch was hiding something from him. The man's eyes spoke words that remained unsaid. Time would tell. It always does, at least, that's what Balthier preferred to believe.

The evening was winding down and Balthier was tired. He went to look for Dantro's wife.

* * *

_Mist._

_Not morning mist. Not the kind of mist that shimmers over rivers at sunrise but Mist. The kind that burns the hairs on the back of your skin._

_Mist. Morning. The Nebra. The dock. Cannot hear the sound of my feet. I should but I cannot._

_Is that Ashe?_

_"Balthier, people will find us if the ship doesn't leave soon."_

_"Are you certain you should be doing this?"_

_"You've been to Giruvegan. Take me there but take me to Raithwall's temple first."_

_She said those words and something inside me made sense. I wanted to go with her. I wanted to follow her where ever she wanted to go. I wanted to help her find what she was looking for. I wanted._

_Vaan?_

_"Hey. I... uh... I sort of thought Basch said that you shouldn't get any ideas." Vaan leaned back with his hands behind his head. "Anyhow, didn't you say you would go to Archades with me?"_

_Archades. Hoverball. Looking for my old team._

_And that was when I heard his voice. That was when I knew I was dreaming. I wanted the dream to stop but I couldn't wake myself._

_"Oh, ho ho! The prodigal son is dreaming! So, Ffamran's chasing after a woman now?"_

_I hated when he did this. Even in my dreams, I hated it. I needed to wake. Need to make this stop._

_"Ffamran, Ffamran, Ffamran. Hoverball scum of the sky."_

_Hated when he did this._

"_Last I remember, he couldn't even chase after a ball much less pass his Akademy exams without coming into my office to cry."_

_Hated it. Hated him. Hated everything about him._

"_Have you found that pursuing a ball on your precious hoverbike is no longer worth the cheers of the crowd that mark your fame? They don't care about you. They don't care when you fall, when you truly fall down."_

_I just couldn't—_

"_You know that. Does this mean you finally plan to come home, tail tucked between your legs? Back to your destiny?"_

"_Just stop." I said it._

"_What did I hear you say?" My father leaned forward, cupping his hand to his ear with a dramatic emphasis that purposefully unscored the futility of my words._

"_Stop." I said it again. "Just STOP! STOP!"_

* * *

_Shit_.

Balthier caught his breath.

The dream faded but a ghostly prickle of Mist remained on his skin. The hairs on the back of his arm stood upright yet, as Balthier pushed himself up to sit, he was certain there had been no discharge of Mist. The air had a faint scent of fish and cactus stew but not of Mist. It had only been a dream.

In the dim of Dantro's house, Balthier could hear the deep breathing and the rustle of blankets of five other sleeping occupants. His throat was parched. Balthier didn't want to wake Dantro or his wife. He got out of bed, stepping quietly through the house in search of a glass and a pitcher of water.

As he traced a slow route in the dark to where he remembered the kitchen to be, he heard voices outside. He peeked out a window. Basch and Penelo were standing under a lantern just a few yards away from the house.

"No, Basch. He's dead. And as much as Reks sometimes feels real in my dreams at night, he's dead and he's not coming back. You know that." Penelo sniffed. Her hand rubbed her eyes. "Why do you have to bring this up?"

"Something about him reminds me of Reks."

"He doesn't remind me at all of Reks."

"I saw the look on your face when he lent you his handkerchief."

Even in the dim light, Balthier saw Penelo's jaw clench and her shoulders stiffen. She turned away.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "He isn't Reks. He's just some guy you found in the river. You shouldn't have brought him here. Not before the pilgrimage."

"He needed our help. I couldn't have left him there. Not like that. Not after being touched by Sin."

Penelo raised her hands to her face. "Please stop. Don't make excuses like this anymore, Basch. Just stop."

The girl disappeared into the darkness. Basch lifted his hand and reached for her shoulder but she was beyond his reach before he could halt her. Balthier watched the man's shoulders curl forward. Basch dropped down into a squat and hid his eyes.

There were things that no one wanted to tell Balthier. Things Basch didn't want to say. Things no one wanted to say.

Balthier knew that, but tomorrow he would find a way to leave with Ashe, to leave with all of them.


End file.
